part time lover
by pumpkinpickles
Summary: It's really hard to forget someone or treat them as part of a dream when they're lying next to Souma in bed, again, warm breath sweeping over his arm. Souma figures it's Heaven's way of telling him to get to know this guy. And maybe his number while he's at it (in which Souma keeps waking up in bed next to Takumi, and one night stands start to become a habit) [soutaku]


Waking up has never been an easy feat for Souma. Added on to the fact that his back seems to be burning for whatever godforsaken reason (if Ryou put pepper power in his sheets again, he swears he's going to shake every last can of soda Ryou stores in bulk in their fridge), head aching, stomach queasy, Souma really doesn't want to lift his face off the pillow he's buried it in. He groans.

"Well. Good morning to you too."

Souma blinks his eyes open at the sudden, amused voice. Sleepy cerulean eyes partially covered with blond bangs stare back at him. Souma blinks, again. Pats the bed to assure himself he actually isn't dreaming.

Yup, this was real. He's hungover, naked, and in bed with a really cute guy who has hickeys all over his neck that Souma was responsible for, probably. Now his burning back has a logical, non-prank related explanation. Fingernails.

'Oh shit' Is the first thing that comes to Souma's mind.

The blond laughs. Souma feels his face heat up. He'd said that aloud, hadn't he.

"Sorry, I can't. Remember what happened. Last night, i mean. Uh, are you alright?" Souma sheepishly rubs the back of his head, sitting up. Blackout drinking has never been one of his strong points.

"You don't?" The blond raises an eyebrow, pushes himself up, the blanket slipping down and _oh_. Oh. That's. That's a lot of bite marks. And Souma wasn't even referring to the hickeys.

Saying that the man was littered with hickeys would be a light way of putting it. Covered with would be more accurate. Eyes drifting over the other's neck, chest, stomach, _god_ , just how far did Souma _bite_? One hand unconsciously moves to cover his mouth. Maybe he really should fix his habit of biting during sex.

The blond laughs again. "You're really red." He teases.

"So are you!" Souma blurts out, muffled through his fingers.

"And who's fault is that?" The blond counters, huffing. He swings his legs off the bed, bending over to pick up his boxers. "If you're worried about last night, don't be. You were good."

Souma nearly goes into cardiac arrest.

"Anyway." The man continues, pulling on his boxers, while grabbing his jeans off the floor. "We won't ever meet again. So don't stress over this. You sound like you're ready to pass over. Wait." He turns around, looking mildly concerned. "This isn't your first, is it?"

"No!" The reply is immediate, and draws another amused smile from the blond. "No, it's just. I don't even know your name." _And I don't make a habit out of one night stands either,_ Souma wants to bitterly add. Well. Not in a few years, anyway.

"It's Takumi." With that, the mystery blond finishes buttoning his shirt, swings his vest over his shoulder, and walks out the room door.

Souma stares at his door, mouth agape. Listening to his front door silently click open, then shut. Flops back onto bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

Stoutly, he decides maybe it's for the best to treat this as a dream to be forgotten and get ready for work.

* * *

It's really hard to forget someone or treat them as part of a dream when they're lying next to Souma in bed, again, warm breath sweeping over his arm. Souma figures it's Heaven's way of telling him to get to know this guy. And maybe his number while he's at it.

Said someone is very obviously awake, but remain curled in the blanket, face hidden.

"So," Souma begins, smirking. "We meet again, mister we-won't-ever-meet-again."

The blanket bundle makes a muffled groan. "Shut up. Don't call me that. My name is Takumi. I thought I already told you that."

"So, was I good this time too?" Souma pats the bundle, clearly enjoying the teasing. _Payback_ , he triumphantly thinks.

Takumi pokes his head out. Tips of ears dusted red, cheeks equally so. "Yeah." He grins.

Oh ho. So there was where that spunk was. But Takumi was fighting a losing battle. Embarrassing others was Souma's forte.

"Thought so. Left you pretty red this time too, huh? Don't stress over this, it'll be gone in a couple of days."

"Okay, okay!" Takumi yelps, tossing the blanket off to flail his arms in a pathetic attempt to signal at Souma to stop. "I give. You win."

Souma pumps his fists in the air, a silly grin on his face. "Victory!"

Takumi rolls his eyes, thought fondness was more prominent in his smile than irritation was. "Yeah, yeah."

This time, Souma sees him out to the door, waving enthusiastically until Takumi's back can barely be seen. Then he realises. He still doesn't have Takumi's number.

Hayama reproaches Souma over breakfast at how he doesn't need a rooster yelling vulgarities outside their apartment to wake him up, and Ryou grumbles in agreement.

* * *

"Are all your apartment complex parties always this...wild? Do you guys thrive off disaster and broken furniture or something?" Takumi asks, picking another piece of confetti out of Souma's hair.

"Dunno, you tell me. You're the one who keeps coming back." Souma mumbles, snuggling into the crook of Takumi's neck, silently pleased with the fact. It's half a miracle that they've met again in this huge city despite only knowing each other's names. The fact that they keep meeting again, naked and in bed with aching hips, is the other half of the situation Souma is hesitant to call a miracle. Not that Takumi was bad in bed. Oh no, that was the falsest, most untrue statement Souma has ever thought up.

"Hmm. It's...interesting, to say the least. Though they're not why I keep coming back." The last statement is significantly softer than the others. If Souma's ear hadn't been pressed next to Takumi's lips, he isn't sure he would have caught that.

"Then is it for me?" Souma grins into Takumi's neck, chuckling delightedly at how the question has raised the blond's temperature so easily.

Somehow, waiting for the answer has Souma's chest tight, breathing constricted.

Takumi's fingers raking through Souma's hair for leftover confetti decide to tug harshly on the long locks instead. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make Souma whine in mock pain.

"Don't get too full of yourself."

But Souma doesn't think his guess is too far off. At least, that's what Takumi's suddenly very warm neck is telling him.

* * *

Before Souma even opens his eyes, he can already guess who the familiar body shape curled against his chest belong to.

Cracking open one eye, he offers a dopey smile at Takumi.

"Again, huh?"

Takumi yawns, but manages a small, exasperated smile back. "We have to stop meeting like this."

"Yeah, i've kinda lost count of how many times this has happened." Souma says. "Not that i'm complaining." Purposefully saying that, just so he can watch his favourite scene of Takumi's face flushing bright red, lips curving into a shy smile. Ugh, now that Souma's seen that, he doesn't want to let go of Takumi. At all. Ever.

Hug tightening, Souma sighs. "I don't want to get up."

An understanding hum comes from Takumi. "Then maybe we can stay like this for a while longer." Is his soft reply.

"I'd like that." Souma shuts his eyes to block out the annoyingly persistent sunrays that slip their way past the cracks of his curtain.

Peaceful, comfortable silence reigns. Souma almost mistakes his room for heaven. Just as he's thinking maybe he's really died happy and was in a perfect realm where only eternal bliss is to be found, Takumi shrieks. Right in his ear.

"Yukihira! It's eight thirty! I'm late!" Pushing the redhead off him brusquely, gasping a quick apology when Souma hits the wall. "Lend me your shower!"

As Takumi rushes through the room picking up his discarded clothes, Souma props himself up on one arm, slightly miffed. Freelancers like him would never understand the pains of nine to five office workers, he supposed.

"Since you're already late, it doesn't matter if you're a little later, right?" Souma raises his voice to be heard above the shower spray.

"It's Tuesday! I'm supposed to clock in early today! One of the staff is sick and asked me to cover! Anyhow, that's irresponsible talk, Yukihira!" Takumi yells back.

"Tuesday?" Souma abruptly sits up. Flips through his mental calendar frantically. Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday - oh. Oh no. Suddenly, he's very much awake.

"Fuck - I forgot - Takumi, let me in the shower too!" Scrambling off the bed, Souma bursts into his adjoined toilet just as the shower is turned off, shower curtain being pulled back. Then shut again just as quickly, when Takumi locks eyes with Souma, turns a brilliant shade of red, yelping.

"I've already seen you naked." Souma would have laughed at the irony had he not been in such a panic. He pulls the curtain open again, stepping in as Takumi steps out, heading for the bedroom.

"What's the sudden rush for anyway?" Takumi asks, roughly drying his hair.

"I have a meeting with a client today. A really important one. At nine thirty." Souma lets out an agonised wail. "If i'm late, Shinomiya-senpai is going to _murder_ me."

Clicking his tongue in sympathy, Takumi wrinkles his nose at his very rumpled sweater shirt as he picks it up.

Tilting his head in the direction of the shower, Takumi asks, "Where do you keep your Winter wear?"

"What?"

"I said, where do you keep your Winter wear?" Takumi repeats, louder. "Let me borrow a turtleneck, or a high collar shirt."

"It's only Autumn, you know. Has all the panic gotten to your head?" Souma questions, exiting the toilet with brows furrowed.

Takumi tilts his neck so Souma has his biting handiwork in full view. "There's kids where I work. I don't need their parents complaining about staff indecency. And I refuse to wear the same shirt two days in a row. I'm not a slob."

"Third drawer from the left." Souma grins, throwing open this wardrobe to grab a pre-ironed suit. He'd have to thank Hayama later for badgering him to iron it. Kiss his feet too. Or try to, just to see Hayama get all antsy. That'd be funny.

"Your tie's crooked." The comment pops Souma's thought bubble. Looks down, to spot that hey, it really is. Was that mess even a tie knot?

Takumi chuckles at Souma's flustered incompetence, though he very considerately tries to hide it,

"I'll help you fix it." Fluidly, Takumi pulls apart the complex mess of a knot. Wraps the silk material around Souma's popped collar, eyes calmly focused, hands moving with practiced ease.

Comfortable, easy. Souma feels himself to relax, though his heart is skipping at a very unhealthy rate at the way Takumi moves so familiarly around him. Ah, Takumi picked the purple turtleneck. The one that doesn't itch, but fits a little too snug for his shoulders. One of Souma's least favourites. But seeing it on Takumi, he thinks it might just have shot it's way to number one.

"There." Takumi pulls the knot in place, flipping Souma's collar back down. Smoothing the collar nicely in place, then giving the tie a satisfactory pat, Takumi beams at Souma, whose heart beats even harder, even noisier at the sight. "Done."

Then, Takumi leans forward to peck Souma on the cheek, effectively stopping Souma's heart rate and killing him. "I hope you impress your client."

Blushing furiously, Takumi scoops up his messenger bag haphazardly discarded by the door, waves, and leaves.

Even after Souma hears the front door open and shut, signalling Takumi's leave, Souma remains standing stock still, unable to tear his eyes away from the half open door.

Eventually Ryou shuffles past his room, pokes his head in to discover an unmoving Souma.

"Oi, Hayama! I think Yukihira's flatlined!"

* * *

"I need help." Souma moans the moment the steps through the front door, kicking off his shoes.

Ryou snorts, receding further back into the sofa. "Tell me about it." he mutters, aggressively channel surfing.

"Do you really want him to?" Hayama questions as he expertly slices the skin off the apple in swirls.

Souma throws himself on the couch, sinking into the old material and making the couch shake. Hayama shouts, slapping a palm against the plate on his lap to keep it from crashing.

"What is it, Yukihira?" Hayama sighs, resigning himself to the mother counselor role the other two (and their neighbour, his and Ryou's partner, Alice) had assigned to him.

Dramatically taking in a deep breath, Souma claps Hayama on the shoulders, forcing Hayama to look at him. "I'm in love."

"Three guesses who that is." Ryou says snarkily. "You've been making a racket nearly every night."

"You guys sleep at Alice's anyway, why does that matter?" Souma argues.

" _That's_ how loud you are."

"Anyway!" Souma loudly says, ignoring Ryou. "I need help. It's super serious this time. I haven't felt this way since...You know. Megumi." He looks away, and down at the floor, frowning.

There's a soft clink as Hayama puts down the apple and fruit knife. Even the violent flickering of changing channels stops.

"Shit, I think it's even more serious this time, you know? His smile makes my heart melt! And my legs literally feel like jelly! I start thinking about our future together and all that cheesy stuff! Like how many dogs we'll have, what his face will look like if I give him black coffee in the morning instead of mocha. Which is his go-to drink, by the way. He likes it with strawberry scones. What if I made strawberry scones for him. And while we're on breakfast foods, did you know one morning I wake up to his sleeping face and I don't even think about sex; I think about how he'd smile if I made instant pancakes and brought it to him in bed with a tray that has, like, a million roses piled on it and oh my god, i'm in deep, aren't I?" Souma groans, plonking his head on Hayama's lap.

"Yeah." Ryou sits up, cocking his head to get a view of Souma. "Really deep. Rock bottom of ocean deep."

"And I don't even know where he lives! Or his number!" Souma wails.

"You know his favourite dessert and you don't know his number?" Hayama asks incredulously.

"I just get so happy whenever I see his face I forget everything, okay." Souma grumbles.

" _Wow_ ," Ryou says. "Then how do you guys keep meeting?"

"I don't know. We just...do. Whenever Alice or Ryoko throws a party, I guess. He's always around."

"...So if you want to see him again, why don't you just get them to organise another party?" Hayama advises. Though he could hardly call that advice, when absolutely no thought was put into conceiving it. That was more like pointing out the obvious.

Souma lifts his head. Gratitude spills in waves from him, and he solemnly takes hold of Hayama's hands.

"I'm nominating you for the next Nobel Prize."

"Do me a favour and don't."

* * *

When Nakiri Alice does something, she does it to extravagant proportions with excessive flair.

Somehow, six tables piled high with alcohol and spiked punch, a dance floor, a mini bar, a DJ with two booming huge stereos and about fifty people had been squeezed into her two bedroom apartment, with minimal space left to navigate the area.

"You can thank me later when you have a new boyfriend, Souma-kun," Alice had told him with a wink before disappearing into the crowd. And Souma really would like to thank Alice, but he thinks it might be impossible. With how he can barely see past the people swarming, surrounding him to make out anyone familiar. Especially not a cute blond with light Italian accent.

Souma is about to give up and head out for a breath of fresh air when he catches a familiar laugh floating across the noisy chattering and chanting of drunks. Spins around to catch the sight of blond hair out of the corner of his eye, and he's pushing through the crowd, muttering 'excuse me' and 'sorry' to trodden toes and disgruntled dancers.

Yet he can never seem to catch up with the figure. Constantly disappearing just as Souma reaches where he's last seen, fleeting figure weaving amongst the crowds Souma struggles against. Like swimming against a current.

After a good two hours of searching, Souma decides. You know what. He's going to take a break in his room. For a good, quiet lie down away from all this noise and sweat and lack of Takumi. And maybe down a shot of strong liquor or two. There's always next time, right? At least Souma hopes there is.

Heart heavy, Souma's quiet as he slips back into his apartment, letting out a long sigh of relief once the front door closes, noise from next door significantly muted.

Oddly enough, the living room lights are on. It definitely wasn't him. He wasn't the last one to leave the house today. Hayama is constantly bitching at him to switch off the lights before leaving the apartment, and Ryou was next door already when he arrived, so it couldn't have been them - was his door open?

Carefully, Souma creeps towards the corridor. Yup. His door is cracked slightly open, lights on and pouring out into the corridor. It couldn't be a thief, right? Or a murderer? Or a serial convict - no, no, the front door was locked before he came in. Probably Ryou or Hayama searching for god knows what in his room. Probably.

Still, Souma puts a key between each knuckle, gripping his makeshift weapon tightly. If it was an intruder, he'd give them _hell_.

SIlently, he edges towards his room, pushing it open with his foot, and gets ready to pounce. Souma was _prepared_.

A blond figure sits on his bed, back to the door, arm resting on the windowpane, head cushioned in hand. Windows thrown open completely, a light breeze sweeping through the room, combing through blond hair. Face slightly flushed, cerulean eyes too busy drinking in the night view to realise Souma's presence. Cliche, red plastic cup in the other hand that rests on his lap, and Souma's breath is taken away at how naturally the figure blends into the environment, as if he was meant to be there.

Souma was _not_ prepared, _at all._

"Takumi?"

Takumi turns his torso to face Souma, grinning. Confused, but extremely ecstatic.

"Yukihira. What are you doing here?"

"It's my room." Souma points out. _And you look perfect here, please stay forever._

"Yeah, duh. I've been here enough times to know." Takumi smiles, words too little playful bite, too soft on the edges. He's slightly drunk, Souma guesses. "I thought you'd be next door. You know, where the party is?"

"Couldn't find you there, so I came back." Souma explains, walking towards the bed.

"So you only go for me?" Takumi cheekily asks, smile growing.

Souma laughs. Sits down on the bed, across from Takumi.

"Yeah."

Takumi's face darkens with red, obviously not expecting such a straightforward answer.

"Hm. Wonder why." Takumi looks back out the window.

"I think you know why." Souma moves closer, till their knees knock. Staving off saying those three words he's been rehearsing for days. Tells himself it's because he wants to drag out this moment, when really, the butterflies causing chaos in his stomach, fuzzing up his mind, interrupting every beat of his heart, tells him it's because he's scared of the answer. Wills his hand not to shake as he moves it to cover the Takumi's hand that holds the cup.

"Do I?" Takumi faces Souma once more, words soft, softer than his touch and lighter than air. Words nearly cracking at the edges, from worry and fear and hope all mixed in a simple, difficult question.

Souma hums, finding the words still lodged in his throat. Somehow unable to force them out. Unwilling to force them out, wishes they would drip and flow from his tongue and just. Just be brought to light, already. He doesn't think his chest can get any tighter.

"Because," _Don't shake, don't shake, don't mess this up._ "I love you."

Once the words leave his mouth, there's nothing left in his mouth but dread and hope and a million wishes made to the stars that Takumi doesn't let go of his hand.

Then the fearful bitter taste is vanquished when Takumi pushes his lips against Souma's, kissing him long and slow, hunger for more evident despite the gentle kiss.

"I love you too." Takumi breathes against Souma's lips, his own curving broadly upwards. "I love you, Yukihira Souma. I love you."

Every repetition feels like a prayer answered. Every repetition becomes less shaky, less unsure. Suddenly, Souma thinks he understands what it means to float on air.

With a giggle, Takumi tosses his empty cup to the floor, laces his fingers behind Souma's neck and pulls him down, kissing him all the while. Sighing as Souma's hand finds it's way beneath his shirt, nails dragging it's way down his side.

"Want to pick up where we left off last time?"

" _Please_."

* * *

When Souma wakes up, he finds Takumi already awake, and messing with his hair.

"Morning." Takumi greets him as usual, as if they didn't just confess to each other the previous night.

"What're you doin'?" Souma sleepily mumbles.

"Pushing your fringe away to look at your sleeping face better." Takumi hums, fingertips lightly brushing across his forehead.

"You can't _say_ that when i've just woken up," Souma groans, "My heart isn't ready."

"Neither is mine."

The couple jumps at the foreign voice. Souma is quick to pull the blanket over Takumi's head, shielding his naked upper half from sight effectively, though it makes the blond yell in surprise.

Ryou stands by the doorway, sipping coffee and looking Souma dead in the eye.

"So you found your makes-your-heart-melt-and-legs-turn-to-jelly picture perfect?" Ryou casually asks, as if the person in question wasn't right there.

"Ryou!" Souma shouts, face quickly heating up.

"Your words exactly." Ryou shrugs, taking another gulp. "One more thing. For the lovely couple, should I throw in a free service of an entire repetition of your moans throughout the entire night?"

"Please don't," Takumi blurts, popping his head out from beneath the blanket, face tomato red. Nape reddening as well, and Souma can't help but kiss it, right where Takumi's hairline meets his neck.

It's a weak spot Souma loves to exploit.

Takumi jumps, squeaking. "Yukihira!"

"What? We're back to last names already?" Souma pouts, resting his chin on Takumi's shoulder.

"I-It's too sudden a change for me to call you by your first name so quickly." Takumi says, avoiding eye contact.

"You didn't seem to have a problem last night, when you were writhing on the sheets, beggin - umphf!" Souma's face meets a pillow dead on. Takumi wastes no time slamming it into his face again and again, shrieking.

"Don't _say_ that kind of _things_ in front of others, moron!"

Ryou spits a mouthful of coffee back into his mug. In the split second Souma's face is free of a bagful of downy feathers, he sends him a glare that says 'don't spoil good coffee for me in the morning, you fucker', and shuffles off, making sure to slam the door shut on his way.

"For-Forgive me, Takumi!" Souma pleads under Takumi's relentless fluffy assault.

"Give me a reason to!" Takumi yells.

"I'll take you out for coffee!"

"Just coffee? That's cheap!" But Souma can hear the sliver of amusement leaking into Takumi's faux-complaint, and he laughs.

"And strawberry scones!"

The pillow pauses mid air.

"The ones from the cafe we saw in the magazine the other day?"

"Yes, yes." Souma peeks out from beneath his arms.

"Deal." Takumi looks like he's won the lottery. "It's a date then! I'll meet you there after work."

"But it's Saturday!" Souma protests. "Can't you skip?"

"I'm only on shift from twelve to four in the afternoon today. Wait for me, alright?" Bending down to peck Souma on the nose, Takumi affectionately smiles.

"You're using your cuteness as a tool of persuasion. I call cheat!" Souma pouts.

Takumi's shy laughter fills the room.

"See you at four thirty."

* * *

 _(epilogue.)_

The first time Souma has had a date in years, and Alice tells him to return her library book as payment for playing cupid instead of letting him fuss over his hair a bit longer. The nerve of her when she was the one who kept dragging Takumi all over the place yesterday night, and made Souma miss catching up with them so many times.

But then again, she also was the one who let Takumi into Souma's apartment, so _maybe_. Maybe he could forgive her and help her with her errand. Then he catches a reflection of his hair that sticks out in all odd directions in a display window and decides, no. He'd make Alice pay for this, somehow.

Grumbling, Souma steps into the air conditioned building. Rubbing his eye when he catches sight of a familiar figure at the front desk, bent over an extremely ragged book. Clever hands carefully undoing the creased binding, to replace the ancient leather cover with something newer.

He's dreaming, right? Thinking about someone so hard he projects their image on someone similar, or something. Pretty sure there's some weird scientific phenomenon to do with that.

"Hello, do you need - Yukihira?"

No, definitely not his imagination.

Takumi stares at Souma, stupefied. Pushes up his reading glasses, that overloads his cuteness meter and suddenly Souma is thanking biased god Alice for blessing him with _this_.

"...How did you know I work here?" Takumi asks, pleasantly surprised.

"Alice told me to return this, so…," Souma trails off. "Wait no. I came to pick you up. There. That sounds cooler."

Takumi muffles his giggle with a fist. "It doesn't work that way."

Souma drops the book in the basket for book returns, and cranes his neck to get a better look at the book Takumi is repairing.

"So that's why you're so good with your hands?"

Takumi's cheeks burst with pink. Before he can retort however, a kid comes bounding towards the front desk, though he stops a good distance away once he spots Souma.

The kids narrows his eyes at Souma. Frowning, he points at Souma's neck. "What's that red mark?"

Takumi follows the direction of the finger and turns scarlet. Souma reaches up, fingers brushing his jawline. Oh. He must have missed one when he was applying foundation.

"Bug bite."

Looking very much offended, the kid sticks his tongue out at Souma. "Liar! Bug bites look like this!"

Proudly sticking his arm forward, the kid reveals a stumpy arm covered in angry red, definitely bug caused splotches. Well. That goes the only kid-friendly excuse Souma knows for hickeys.

"Uh, well - ,"

"I'll ask Aldini-san! He doesn't lie to us!" The kid spins on his heel to smile brightly at Takumi. Takumi offers a nervous smile back. He glances at Souma, who shrugs helplessly. Then Takumi's smile grows less hesitant, more mischievous.

"Yoichi-kun. You know how sometimes when you do really well in school your teacher gives you a gold star?" Takumi starts, careful to keep his voice low.

"Yeah." Yoichi nods sagely.

No. No no no. Souma claps a hand over his mouth, muffling a snort of laughter. Takumi could not be saying what he thinks he's about to say.

"Well, this big brother did really well in the bedroom, and that red mark is what he gets instead of a gold star."

Souma is bent over, redfaced, hand clamped tightly over his mouth, the other arm around his middle to alleviate the pain of held in laughter.

"In the bedroom?" Yoichi crinkles his nose. Then his eyes light up in understanding. "Oh! You mean like doing chores like cleaning and making your bed!"

Takumi bites his bottom lip to keep himself from bursting out into laughter himself. "Yes, something like that. Storytime is starting soon, so why don't you go downstairs and find Chiyo-chan so you don't miss it?"

Yoichi grins and nods, before taking off. The moment the child trots down the stairs and out of sight, laughter bursts forth from Souma.

"Are you _allowed_ to do that?" He wheezes out.

Takumi shrugs, looking absurdly pleased with himself. Talk about a cat who ate the canary. "I didn't lie."

Souma laughs even harder.

* * *

When they walk out the library, Souma leans in close to Takumi's ear so only he can hear what he whispers. "If I do extra well in the bedroom tonight, can I get more 'gold stars'?"

Takumi's palm grows warm in Souma's hand.

* * *

a/n:

1) soumegu is great. im rooting for it in canon. they just don't end up together in this canon bc i headcanon megumi as a hardcore lesbian  
2) most of this was written from 1am-5am in the morning  
3) yoichi and chiyo are twin ocs. theyre my lineplay charas, and only used for filler lol


End file.
